Harry Potter and the Circle of Oblivion

DISCLAIMER - I won't even begin to pretend I'm JKR. It's all hers… just a little fun for me!

***

Harry Potter moved as noiselessly as possible about the small room he occupied at Number 4, Privet Drive. Downstairs he could hear the voices of his horrible relatives, the Dursley's, arguing with an odd looking man in their living room.

“I have a letter here from Professor Dumbledore. You know the name,” The man leveled his gaze, “right Mrs. Dursley?” Aunt Petunia only pursed her lips and widened her eyes a bit more as the odd man continued. “He has released Harry to our care for the remainder of the summer holiday.” Of course, the man wasn't odd to Harry. Remus Lupin was one of the ever-tightening circle in Harry's life, but to his Aunt and Uncle and their expanding son, Dudley, Harry's life, friends and identity were a dark, foreboding secret.

“Fine!” Uncle Vernon snapped. He hated people like Harry and Lupin. “Take the boy! We don't want him or his kind lurking about.” Uncle Vernon made a point to accentuate the word `kind' so that Lupin would feel the blow, but he was undisturbed, only furthering to aggravate the plump man. “It's not normal I tell you!” Vernon said quietly as his eyes moved over the scars on Lupin's face.

Harry almost smiled as he stuffed his broom servicing kit in the top of his trunk, thinking of how his godfather, Sirius Black, would have loved to arrive with Remus and taunt the Dursley's. They knew only of Sirius' reputation as a murderer and Harry had never found it necessary to inform them that his godfather had been framed. As it was, the mere mention of his name sent them into hysterics, which Harry found a sort of sweet revenge. The Dursley's were right about one thing, though. Harry and his friends weren't `normal'. They were witches and wizards, something thick, non-magic people, or muggles, like Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and ickle Duddykins would never understand.

“Ready Professor.” Harry said from the stairs. He still wasn't sure why Dumbledore was allowing him to leave Privet Drive only two weeks into the summer, but he couldn't have been more thankful. Perhaps the headmaster was trying to make up for some of the trials fifth year had brought. Or, Harry thought suddenly, perhaps something had happened to someone else. Hermione. Ron. His eyes jerked toward Lupin, but he found no urgency there, settling his nerves a bit.

“Right then, let's be off, Harry.” Lupin said quietly.

Instead of walking out the door, Harry stepped into the fireplace with his things and looked questioningly at Lupin.

“Where to, Professor?”

“Grimmauld Place.” Lupin said darkly.

Harry's heart leapt for a moment and then thudded within his chest. Nonetheless he took a handful of flu powder from the pouch Lupin had produced, shouted, “Number 12, Grimmauld Place,” threw the fine dust to the ground and was engulfed by a green flame.

Uncle Vernon's cry of “Infernal, blasted weirdos!” Was the last Harry heard of Privet Drive. He opened his eyes a few moments later and stepped out into the large den of Grimmauld Place, Sirius Black's house and headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.

Why here? He wondered to himself. Didn't anyone care that Sirius had been dead less than a month? Didn't anyone care that… a loud crash behind him pushed further thoughts from his mind.

“Best to move your bags when someone is coming in behind you, Harry.” Lupin muttered and pushed past the large trunk still in the fireplace.

“Sorry. I guess I thought you'd be apparating.” Harry smiled weakly.

“Well, I did apparate in,” Lupin smiled, “but it takes quite a bit of energy I don't have during this part of the month.”

Harry nodded his head, knowing the lunar cycle was in the midst of its full moon. And Professor Lupin was a werewolf.

“So, why are we here, professor? Why not somewhere…” Harry looked around, not wanting to finish.

“Else?” Lupin understood Harry's pain. Sirius, along with Harry's father, James, had been one of his closest friends since their days at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which Harry now attended.

“Dumbledore has his reasons, I'm sure. And I feel this time he will explain in full.”

Harry sighed. Professor Dumbledore was the Headmaster of Hogwarts and the person with the most insight into Harry's past, and possibly, his future. He had great affection for the older wizard and had found out, not so long ago, just how deeply Dumbledore cared for him. The protection he tried to give, almost destroying their deeply forged trust.

“Told you we'd see you soon, Mate!” Harry's head turned toward the sound of his red-headed best friend, Ron Weasley's, voice.

At the same moment, Harry's other best friend, Hermione Granger, appeared, taking the steps two at a time and rushing forward to throw her arms around his neck. “Really soon!” She said loudly in his ear, her curls tickling his nose.

“Bonkers,” Ron muttered, moving toward them, “Hermione, you'll be covered in flu powder!”

Harry couldn't suppress the grin that spread across his face at seeing them. He snaked his arms around Hermione's waist and hugged her tightly. When she finally let go, he turned and hugged a shocked Ron.

“Now I'll be covered in flu powder!” They broke apart and the trio laughed.

“How long have you been here?” Harry looked between them.

“Only just before you.” Hermione said quickly, “Tonks came for me and Ron came with his mum and dad.”

“So no idea what's going on, then?” Harry asked.

“None.” Ron shook his head, “Being all wonky they are. Mum's never been this secretive.”

“Ronald!” Came the voice of Molly Weasley.

Ron's face twisted, “Yes, mum?”

Mrs. Weasley appeared in the den. “Oh Harry! There you are, dear!” She turned to Ron, “If I had a bronze knut for every time you left something behind I'd be richer than the Malfoy's,” she handed her son his wand. “Harry, so lovely to see you again so soon!”

“Thank you.” Harry smiled as Mrs. Weasley hugged him.

“Now then, you children go upstairs and finish unpacking your things. Dinner will be ready shortly.

The three friends moved to obey and instead of unpacking, sat down on the beds in the room Harry and Ron would share. Ginny was sleeping in the next room and had apparently been sick for the last few days.

“How was Privet Drive?” Hermione sat down beside him, knowing the answer to her question.

“Lousy.” He smiled, “But apparently in the past, which makes today brilliant.”

“Honestly Hermione, you'd think he'd been on a year long trek across Europe. It's only been two weeks.”

“I know that, Ron.” She shot a dangerous look in his direction. “But he has been with the Dursley's.”

“And I know that. It's not like I want him there either, but you might let him take a deep breath before you crush him to death next time.” He pointed at Hermione's hand which seemed to have a death grip on Harry's arm.

Harry rolled his eyes, secretly glad to know some things would never change. “Ron, I'm still breathing and Hermione, we do have other things to think about than Privet Drive.” He paused, “No clues at all why we're here… in… Siri… his house?”

Hermione shot Ron a knowing look.

“Dumbledore must think it's the safest place for us all to be right now.” Hermione offered.

“Maybe,” Harry said. He hadn't bothered to tell his friends that Dumbledore knew Privet Drive was the safest place for him to be, or at least the fact that he returned there once a year was a great protective device for Harry himself. “But isn't The Burrow safe, too?”

“And much more fun.” Ron added.

“I don't think we can question Dumbledore's motives.” Hermione said matter of factly. “And really, is the possibility of bouncing tables around in the air all you think about, Ron?”

Harry wished all they had to worry about was who lost control of their floating table or if the Chudley Cannons won their latest game. Alas, life had not been so kind to him or his friends.

Harry took a handful of Bertie Bott's beans that Ron held out to him, “When is Dumbledore supposed to be here?”

“Dinner I guess,” Ron shrugged. “You know how this lot loves to keep us in the dark.”

“So, er… Harry,” Hermione began slowly, “How have… things… been?”

Ron shook his head in disbelief, “Hermione!” He said, spitting.

“It's alright, Ron.” Harry said. “I'm doing… ok.” His emerald eyes moved to lock with Hermione's, “But I'm still not ready to talk about him.”

She nodded, knowing his look held the promise of some later release.

“Ron! Harry, Hermione!” Mrs. Weasley's voice boomed up the stairs, “Time for dinner.”

The group moved down the stairs and into the dining room. Harry looked around at the faces surrounding the table. Mr. Weasley was at one end and Dumbledore at the other. Between them on one side were Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody, Lupin and Snape. The three teens took their seats on the other side of the table next to Mrs. Weasley. Some of the Order's growing members were missing and Harry figured them to be out patrolling or just unable to come to whatever this meeting was.

Dumbledore smiled proudly as the trio sat down.

“I am glad to see everyone has arrived safely,” the headmaster began, “And as I detect a very deep curiosity in the faces of our new arrivals, and though there is no great mystery, I will not keep them in suspense any longer as I feel they would surely figure us out with their own detective work by the end of the evening.”

Mr. Weasley smiled and Hermione blushed. She, Harry and Ron were definitely creating their own set of rules on the Hogwarts grounds.

“Harry,” Dumbledore said, “I do not know how much explanation you have given your friends, and as it is your information to give, I will say nothing other than, your protection is current. Your time at the Dursley's satisfactory.” Hermione and Ron looked at Harry questioningly, but his eyes remained fixed on the headmaster. “All of us here have suffered great losses, none more so than yourself, and for that reason, I felt it best to bring us all together. I could find no sense in keeping you at the Dursley's any longer and know enough of your temperament to be certain you would most assuredly end up leaving again. My pre-emptive measure was to bring your friends to you in the safest place I knew of besides the school.”

Severus Snape, hardly a friend or fan of Harry's, looked as though someone had stuffed a whole bowl of lemons into his mouth.

“More importantly, I have been made aware by several sources,” Dumbledore stroked his beard, his eyes twinkling and settling momentarily on Tonks, “that I should no longer treat my students as unable to handle what lies ahead of them.”

“Lastly, Harry, there is the matter of this house.”

Harry furrowed his brow, but said nothing.

“Your godfather was a great man. His love for you was great because of his loyalty and love for your parents. You may not have had as much time with him as you would have wished, but he did and does not intend to be forgotten.”

Harry's eyes began to sting.

“This house, though a bit troublesome at times,” they were all sure he was referencing the screaming portrait in one of the hallways, “and a bit of a fixer-upper,” his eyes darted toward the peeling paint, “is yours.”